wildfire
by helium lost
Summary: Their love is fiery and passionate, clandestine yet open. Fifteen Zhao x Azula drabbles.


**wildfire**  
. helium lost .

**Author's Notes:** This was written for the 15 flames challenge over at Livejournal. I didn't really want to do them all separately, so I decided to have each prompt just 150 words long. Anyway, I really love the pairing Zhao/Azula—they have that whole secret element going on, plus the whole taboo pedophilia aspect. And they don't get enough love! So here's fifteen Zhao/Azula drabbles for all you people out there who're like me and want more.

Also, by the prompt, I put the age that Azula's meant to be in parentheses, in case you were wondering about the timeframe.

**Dedication:** Somewhere along the line, I decided that this is for Arekisu, who totally rabidly ships Azula/anyone, and who stuck with my insanity during NaNoWriMo. :D Enjoy!

**Warnings:** Obviously, there's the whole pedophilia thing going on, so if that doesn't work for you, don't read it. There's also one drabble that has more than just hints of Ozai/Azula, and there's lots of (not explicit) sex. I will bump the rating up to an M/R if you guys feel that that's more appropriate.

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**I - - - just walking by** (14) 

The sun is rising, slanting through the open, redwood windows, illuminating the furniture and bathing the halls in a dim warmth. The sound of footsteps echoes through the corridors, then pauses.

"Admiral Zhao," she says and tips her head in acknowledgement, a sly smirk on her face. The sun glints off the golden crown nestled in her black hair. He pauses and turns to return her smirk.

"Azula," he says. She stands with her arms clasped behind her back; he, meanwhile, has a scroll clutched in one hand, the other hand resting on his hip. "You shouldn't be up so early, nor roaming around alone."

She smiles sardonically and cocks her head to the side, looking up at him mischievously. "Oh, well…" she says, then twirls a lock of her hair around her finger. "_You_ could accompany me, Admiral."

He feels a spark pass between them and smiles.

"Of course."

**II - - - shh! it's a secret** (14)

They are tangled between bedsheets, her hair messy and loose, strands cascading over her smooth, milky-white shoulders. He entwines his fingers with the silken threads of her hair, pulling her head back as she moans.

"Please…" she breathes, a flush on her cheeks, her lips red and parted. He leans down from his position behind her.

"Please _what_, Princess?" he whispers coarsely in her ear, sending shivers up her spine as she buries her face in the rough, embroidered silk beneath her.

"More," she murmurs between gasps. He laughs and pounds harder into her as she squirms beneath him; she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood and clutches at the bedsheets, squirming more violently as the cries come out from her more quickly, more frequently.

"Shh," he hisses in her ear, clamping his hand down over her mouth as she lets out a final cry, "it's a secret."

**III - - - element** (9)

He practices his firebending by the moonlight. The flames, weaker than they are in the sunlight, glimmer in the darkness and cast a flickering glow around him.

She watches from a distance, the rugged fire emanating from his hands reflected in her eyes; she blinks and turns her gaze away, the afterimages still bright in her mind. She holds her hand out before her and ignites a flame, warm and orange—small and weak.

She doesn't realize that he is standing before her until he speaks.

"Care to join me, Princess?" he asks, and she nods. He takes a couple steps from her and ignites a flame, enormous and reckless.

"The trick is, Princess, to let go of restrictions—not being in your element does not give you an excuse to be weak."

She lights a flame—larger and stronger.

He smiles, and another flame ignites within her.

"Very good."

**IV - - - give me what i desire** (8-9)

He runs his hands down the rough fabric of her uniform, savoring the blossoming curves hidden beneath them. She tenses, unfamiliar tendrils of heat flickering through her body.

"Captain…?" she whispers, eyes still unaccustomed to the darkness surrounding her.

"Shh…" he says, his beard pricking at the bare flesh of her neck. "Don't be scared. Don't be worried."

He nuzzles her soft, tender flesh, supple from the few years of firebending training that she has already received. He gently kisses her cheek and touches a finger to her lips, parting her full lips for a moment before leaning down and softly pressing his lips to hers. She flinches for a moment, but he puts a hand on the small of her back and brings her close, parting his lips from hers as he holds her small body close to his.

"Don't be scared," he whispers.

She melts into his embrace.

**V - - - it's wrong** (14)

Lieutenant Jee looks at Admiral Zhao out of the corner of his eye as he stands beside the window, looking out into the bright sunshine.

"It's wrong, you know," he says after a brief pause. Zhao takes another sip of his tea and sets it down on the table again, the clatter resounding throughout the room.

"Of course it is," he replies, and grins crookedly. "And that's half of why she's so attractive."

Jee sighs. "Zhao—she's fourteen."

Zhao picks up his teacup and takes another sip, contemplating the tea's taste for a moment before setting the teacup back down again. He sits back and taps his fingers on the polished, redwood arm of the chair.

"If the Fire Lord finds out—"

"Makes it even more exciting, doesn't it?"

A sardonic grin crosses his face.

"All's fair in love and war," he says, then laughs at Jee's disgusted expression.

**VI - - - ice** (10-11)

Her glare is as cold as ice.

"I would advise you to stay away from my daughter," she says, arms crossed, voice calm and steady but not without a running undercurrent of threat.

He smirks.

"Why?"

She tenses. "You know very well why. Don't try to play dumb or innocent with me, Captain—I know what you're up to, and I won't let it continue."

He laughs, and her face hardens. "I'm only giving your daughter what she wants—some love. Her daddy is busy ruling the nation and overseeing important matters, and her mother is always busy fawning over Zuko, leaving no time at all for poor, little Azula." His words burn into her and she opens her mouth to tell him off, but he interrupts her before she even begins.

"Her words, not mine," he says, and grins sardonically as she storms away, muttering furiously under her breath.

**VII - - - accelerate** (14)

Zhao stands at the docks, too far away for her to hear what he is saying. Her breathing quickens as she watches him gesture and make orders, a self-assured grin on his face.

"What're you look at, Azula?" asks Ty Lee, walking over to her. She follows Azula's gaze and sees Zhao welcoming the newest members of the crew, a group of young but powerful-looking soldiers.

Ty Lee giggles. "Aren't those soldiers so cute? Especially that one over there, on the left—that Yuu Yan archer. I think it's the face paint." She giggles again. "How about you, Azula? Which one are you looking at?"

Azula smirks. "They're all mere boys," she says. "I'm not interested in them."

Ty Lee cocks her head to the side, puzzled. "You don't like boys, Azula?" she asks. "Then—"

"What I'm interested in," Azula says, eyes resting anew on the Admiral, "is _men_."

**VIII - - - the best part of waking up** (18-22)

When the memory of him is almost gone, he returns.

He is battered and bruised, and no longer a hero. The gates of the royal palace are closed to him; he disappears into obscurity, lost in the crowd of nameless people.

But she interrupts this nightmare when she shows up at his door, the fire in her eyes extinguished.

"You're back," she says, voice pained.

He nods awkwardly.

"May I?"

He steps aside, and she enters. She looks at him, unfamiliar sympathy in her eyes, and one thing turns to another—her tentative embrace leads them to the bedroom, where she sobs, overwhelmed, as they make love.

He opens his eyes the next morning and is greeted by her amber ones staring back.

"The best part of waking up," he whispers, memories of the years in between surfacing, "is seeing you next to me."

And smiles finally touch their lips.

**IX - - - fault** (14)

She tells herself that it's not her fault that any of this happened.

But, at the same time, she can't help feeling that, if she had thought just one step further… if she had thought a bit more creatively (and how ironic it was that people always praised her for her creative battle plans—so, so ironic)…

She stands on the shore and watches as the waves lap up onto the sand. Somewhere out there is Zhao—dead, maybe, or maybe alive—and she can't help cursing herself at being such an _idiot_ to not factor in the one most important possibility.

The sun sets and casts a bloody red glow over the shore.

_It's not your fault_, a voice within her says.

She lets go and the flames burst all around her, scorching the air with their necessity to _burn_.

And another voice within her says, _Yes it is_.

**X - - - one last time** (14)

"I'm telling you for the last time," she says, her lips falling soft like butterfly wings against his rough neck, "that you'll do fine, Admiral."

He sighs as he rubs her naked arm. "I know."

She kisses his ear. "Those petty waterbenders at the North Pole have probably never seen one of our ships. And their buildings and defenses—they're no match for our fire."

He furrows his brow. "All the same, I have this feeling that we've forgotten something. I can't figure out what, but it's something big."

"Shh," she murmurs, then drowns him in buds of fiery kisses.

-

When Azula receives the letter weeks later, her face is contorted with a mixture of disbelief, sadness, and utter anger. And at that moment, she realizes what they forgot.

"The Avatar," she hisses, then burns the letter into a pile of ash that drifts to the floor like black rain.

**XI - - - stars** (14)

"You know," he says to her one evening as they stand on the balcony, "the stars are made of fire."

She, draped in a loose towel sliding off her shoulders, turns to face him, loose tendrils of hair falling into her face. A lazy smile curls across her face as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Really now," she says, one eyebrow raised. He chuckles and nods.

"Of course."

She turns her head back toward the sky, watching the pinpricks of light twinkle and glitter in the darkness.

"Then show me."

He opens his mouth in protest, but she laughs and places a finger on his lips.

"Shh," she murmurs, coming closer to him, "don't say anything—just show me."

And he leans down and kisses her, tasting her fiery soft lips, and for a moment she imagines that the stars are burning just a bit brighter.

**XII - - - mama said** (10)

"Mama said that I shouldn't spend so much time with you," she says one day as she examines the knives displayed on Zhao's wall as thunder rumbles outside.

He laughs in reply—a deep, rough laugh.

"What does your mother know? She can't even firebend—even though her brother, sister, parents, and grandparents all could."

Azula turns away from the knife that she was looking at—a beautiful, ornate knife—and looks at Zhao.

"Really?" she says, and Zhao nods. He beckons her toward him and she walks over; he pulls her onto his lap and points out the window as a flash of lightning cracks the smooth blackness of the sky.

"Your mother can't feel the lightning in her hands and control it… but you can," he whispers in her ear. "And that's what _I_ say."

The next day, Azula feels a spark of blue burst off her fingertips.

**XIII - - - laugh if you want** (14)

Fire isn't like the other elements—it bites back at its master.

He enters the room cursing under his breath, and she, covered with his blankets, looks up from her book.

"What happened?" she asks as he rummages through his drawers.

"Burned myself," he mutters, and she laughs, a cruel laugh that echoes through the room and sends him into a burning rage. He strides over to the bed and pulls her out by her wrist, his grip crushingly strong. He slams her up against the wall and pins her to it with his body, his face contorted into an ugly snarl.

"Don't you _dare_ laugh at me," he hisses, and fear flashes in her eyes. Red-hot fire flares up around him and he lashes out at her, burning a searing mark across her bare chest.

He lets go of her, and she laughs as the pain flows through her.

**XIV - - - why won't you…?** (13-14)

"Why won't you let me help you?"

"I want to do this _my_ way." He moves a piece and contemplates the scenario before moving the piece back again.

"You could—" begins Azula, but Zhao hushes her. She frowns and, with a burst of strength, pulls the chair back and leans in close to Zhao, their noses almost touching.

"You're doing it all wrong, you bastard," she hisses, then begins rapidly moving and shuffling pieces. "If you go _here_, then _this_ could happen; of course, that's not very favorable, so I'd recommend moving _here_ instead so that you have the added advantage of getting the sun into their eyes—this is, of course, going to happen during midday, correct?—and you could also have reinforcements _there_—"

As he listens to Azula fire off battle strategies, Zhao makes a mental note to never, _ever_ get into a fight with her.

**XV - - - it's just an illusion** (14)

She heard what happened but won't believe it. Of course, her demeanor is still as cold as ice, and she reveals none of her emotions to anyone.

The cold nighttime comes and finds her in bed, callused hands rubbing her father's shoulders.

"There," says her father, and she rubs the spot harder. It's almost frightening to see how diminished her father is on this night, the full moon peeking in through the window—even just a bit of strenuous firebending fatigues him.

A moment later she feels her father's hands on her, rubbing her shoulders and her back, working out all the knots. She sighs, vague images flashing through her mind, as her father's hands begin to roam over other parts of her body, sliding under the fabric of her uniform.

She lets a single word escape from her lips as the room begins to fill with white-hot fire.

"Zhao…"

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**Author's Notes:** Honestly, to me, Azula doesn't act fourteen at all—she always strikes me as being at least sixteen, so sometimes it's hard to remember that. XD Anyway, loved it? Hated it? Either way, leave me some feedback :) Thanks for reading! 


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